Snow Island
by Aslan's Lamb
Summary: Wesley and Buttercup are living on a secret island with their son, Ras, and other refugees of Florin. When a young girl is kidnapped by pirates, Wesley and Ras go on a journey to bring her back.
1. Chapter 1

"I am terrible at everything I try," I say, slamming the door of the stable.

"Who told you that, Ras?"

I laugh at the absurdity of the question. Anyone on Nosnow Island will think twice before saying anything insulting to me. Father used to be a pirate before we came here and he is the greatest duelist in the world.

"Nobody."

Mother frowns. "Are you upset because your father won today's fencing match? You're thirteen years old, you can't expect to –"

"I won the match," I say. "But father let me win to encourage me, I'm sure of it."

"He wouldn't insult you by letting you win."

"Oh, no?" Mother can be so naïve.

"When he wins you grow depressed and when _you _win you grow depressed because you're sure that he let you win. Will anything satisfy you?"

"An honest victory," I say, then, add, "I'm going over to Fezzik's."

"Why can't you have dinner at home?"

I am silent.

"All right. Go."

Mother thinks that I am angry at father and this is why I am avoiding him today. But she doesn't understand. I love father. I love being near him and hearing him toss out brilliant and witty words like daggers at a tossing game. I enjoy saying brilliant and witty things back, the conversation becoming more and more like a game with no end. But sometimes the pressure of having to be brilliant and witty gets too much for me and I escape to Fezzik's.

When I say Fezzik's, I don't mean his_ house_. I mean his workshop, where he hauls and chops wood that is later used to build houses and boats. His workshop is always crawling with kids but I never feel jealous because I know I'm not just another kid. What Fezzik and I have is special. I remember when I was five years old and had just discovered rhyming. Fezzik and I spent days, rhyming everything that came to mind and laughing until we couldn't breathe. We still have a ritual of greeting each other in rhyme.

On the way to Fezzik's, I get a glimpse of Inigo standing by the tavern and arguing with a man while a slender girl leans on his arm. No doubt he is challenging him to a duel, which is really more of a jest than a serious challenge because everybody knows that _nobody_ can defeat Inigo. Except father, of course.

Yes, Inigo has probably reminded him of that fact because the man turns away. Inigo turns to the girl, triumphant.

Mother likes to say, "It's time for Inigo to stop running around with women and find his true love."

Father once replied to that, "Inigo's true love is not a woman. It is adventure."

When I see Fezzik, I call out, "Fezzik, how's the air today?"

"Just right for an evening play!" Fezzik calls back.

I grin, pleased that he has mentioned the play. Tonight I will play a lead role in Remorse of a Rogue. The whole island will be there.

Acting is the one thing I am not terrible at. Actually, I love it.

The play is about a young knight who has killed an honorable man by mistake, thinking that he was an enemy. The knight has come to apologize to the man's daughter but she refuses to see him. He stands by her window, night and day, asking how he might make up for his offense. I play the knight. Ophelia plays the daughter.

Ophelia is twelve. She has red hair and the prettiest voice on the whole island. She was probably born singing. Ophelia is also blind. She was born that way too.

* * *

There are about fifty people living on Nosnow Island. The men here are either past pirates or escaped criminals of Florin (although most haven't committed a crime for over eight years). Prince Humperdink would love to have all of their heads but nobody in Florin knows exactly _where_ Nosnow Island is and we'd prefer for it to remain that way.

The men, women and children have gathered. The evening air is cool. The play begins.

"All I ask is that I may I speak to you…please?"

"I will not let you in…and I will not forgive!"Ophelia's voice soars.

Occasionally our dialogue gets interrupted by various inconveniences, such as dragons, monsters, warriors that have come to attack the prince. The prince remains by the window, defeats all of them and resumes speaking to the princess. Finally, after seeing that he is badly wounded, she is touched and lets him into the castle.

"You could not hope to defeat a hundred men…Why did you stay?"

I take a deep, anguished breath. "Until I know what I must know, I will not go away…I'd rather die a hundred deaths."

"I hope you understand that I cannot forgive you…yet."

Ophelia is perfect. I hope I am as good an actor as she is.

After the cheers and clapping have died down, I make my way to my parents.

"Oh, Ras! You were wonderful!" mother says, hugging me.

"Of course, I was," I say, nonchalantly. "I always am."

Father smiles because that is the sort of answer he himself would give.

"Why don't you ever act, Westley?" mother asks father as we walk home. "Whatever acting talent he has, comes from you."

"When I act, I prefer for people not to realize it."

Mother looks at him, puzzled. The truth is, although mother loves father deeply, she does not understand him at all. Hardly anybody does. I think Inigo has come closer to understanding him that anybody else. Which is not very close.


	2. Chapter 2

Today, the whole island will celebrate because our ship is finally ready.

In the spring, there was a sea battle with pirates and the ship was awfully damaged. Not pirates from the _Revenge_, of course. Those pirates have an agreement of sorts with father so they don't bother us. But they don't defend us either, so we have to be prepared to defend ourselves. We've spent all summer and some of the fall, setting the ship to rights, hauling wood, hammering and nailing, all under father's directions.

I'm sure you've understood by now that father makes all the biggest decisions on the island. They have tried to make him prince. Father refused. "I'm sick to death of princes," he said. So they made him chief. Chief Westley.

Yesterday, Ophelia told me that she would not be able to come to the celebration.

"Why not?" I asked. "Your father worked as hard as any other man. It is your celebration too."

"By the time I finish my chores, it will be time for the celebration to begin."

Ophelia and her father manage the bakery so they are quite busy in the mornings.

"So? Lots of people come in at the last minute."

"Everybody will be _there_ by then and I cannot go alone."

"Who said you have to go alone? I'll walk with you."

Ophelia paused. "I won't run," she said. "You'll be late because of me."

"What a tragedy."

Ophelia smiled. "Thanks, Ras," she said.

When I arrive at the bakery, she has just finished doing the dishes and is sweeping the floor.

"Have some raisin bread," she says to me. "You deserve it."

I am sitting down and enjoying the raisin bread when there is a knock on the door.

Ophelia stops sweeping and looks puzzled. I know she is wondering the same thing I am: _Why would anyone knock on the door before entering?_

"Come in?" Ophelia calls out.

The door opens. A man steps in the doorway. A sunburned man with large muscles and rough hands. I have never seen him before.

"Is this the bakery then?" the man asks.

Ophelia gasps when she hears the unfamiliar voice. "Y-yes," she says.

"I'd like some bread!"

"Right…right away," Ophelia answers.

"Hello," I say.

The man glances at me and grins. "Hello," he answers. "That raisin bread looks good."

"It is."

"Some raisin bread!"

He must be one of the sailors from the _Revenge__. _Sometimes, they'll, drop their wounded or injured sailors off at our island and sail on. Only he doesn't look injured.

"How come you two are in here all alone?"

It is a strange question and my uneasiness grows. "Why are _you_ all alone?" I parry.

The man laughs. "I like it," he says. "Though sometimes it gets lonely."

As Ophelia places the bread on the counter, the man grabs her hand. He holds it with one hand and strokes it with the other. "Yes, it can get very lonely," he says.

Ophelia is frozen. She doesn't move. If he tries to harm her… I need a weapon. I look around desperately. I don't know where the knives are and haven't got the time to look for them. There _is_ a frying pan in plain sight.

The man makes a sudden movement and suddenly, he's got his arms around Ophelia. Ophelia screams. The man pulls out a coil of rope. I grab the frying pan and swing, hitting his shoulder. He cries out but doesn't let go of her. Instead he turns around to face me as he ties her hands behind her back. Ophelia screams again, crying now. I swing the frying pan at his head. He ducks. He swings his fist at me. I duck. I swing again and he grabs the frying pan and wrenches it from my hands.

"Ophelia, where are the knives?" I shout.

Swiftly, the man puts down the frying pan, pulls out a sharp dagger and holds in to Ophelia's neck, so she can feel it. "Yes, Ophelia," he says. "Where _are_ the knives?"

Ophelia is silent. The man looks at me scornfully.

"Go home, boy. I left you alive and that's more than pirates usually do."

Pirates.

"If you need a slave, you don't want her," I say, desperately. "She's blind. Can't do anything. Can't work. She's useless."

The man hesitates. "Hmmm…" he says. "That's all right. We can find a place for a pretty little blind girl, eh? We like pretty little blind girls." He drapes Ophelia over his shoulder and leaves the bakery, chuckling.

I have to get help. Now. But I can't run for help, that'll take too long. Noise. I've got to make noise. I grab a pot and begin to bang it against all the other pots. I slam one pot against the other. I drop the pots on the floor. I bang on them with the frying pan. Please, somebody, hear. I run down the path to the beach. I hear Ophelia screaming. There are three men and they are pushing her into a boat.

If I can stall them…I rush at the sunburned man. He sees me and shoves me into the water. I try to stand up, he holds me down in the water with one hand and puts his other hand on the back of my head. "You are a nuisance. Shall I drown you?"

He pushes my face down until it's almost in the water.

"My father is a pirate too," I gasp. "And if you do me any injury, you will regret the day you were born!"

The man laughs. "A pirate, eh?"

He pushes me away roughly and I land on the scratchy sand, where the water is shallow. Choking, sputtering, I sit up. They are sailing into the ocean.

I couldn't stop them.


	3. Chapter 3

I hear voices behind me and I turn around. A group of people is approaching, mother and father among them. Mother jumps off her horse at full speed and gathers me in her arms.

"Are you all right?" she cries. I pull away.

Ophelia's father grabs my hand, his eyes wild. "Where's Ophelia?"

"What happened?" father asks. "Tell me from the beginning."

"Ophelia…Ophelia and I were…waiting, I mean, I was…waiting for…for her…"

I cannot speak. My eyes are burning and it feels like there is a stone in my throat. I sit down on a rock because I am shaking too hard to stand. Mother puts her hand on my shoulder. Father doesn't say or do anything. I can see a little impatience in his eyes. I take a deep breath.

"I was waiting for Ophelia. A man came in…he asked for bread." I recount the story, trying not to leave anything out. When I have finished, father is silent for only a few moments. Then he shouts, "Get the ship ready!"

Several men run down to the dock. They are small dots against the sun. Father keeps talking. "We will follow them. Women, prepare quick food and drink. Men, dress for battle and take your weapons. In ten minutes, we sail."

Everyone seems to jump into action. Father is organizing, directing, commanding. Someone brings him a loaf of bread from the bakery. Someone else brings him his sword. Father and the other men board the ship, checking it over, discussing and gesturing.

Ophelia's father approaches me, his eyes deep with worry. "You…you tried to protect my daughter. For that I thank you."

I can only nod as he leaves mother and me standing there by the shore. And then, they are ready to sail.

Mother cups her hands around her mouth. "Westley!"

Father looks in her direction.

"Be…"

She probably wants to say 'be careful' but thinks better of it. She knows he won't be. "Come home!"

"As you wish!"

And they're gone.

I am left feeling strangely hollow. Of course I understand. The pirates must be stopped before they get too far. Every moment counts. But still…father could have said something to me…anything…I had tries to so hard to defend Ophelia…he could have said something about that…

Mother seems to read my mind. "You did all you could," she says. "You have your father's courage."

It is sweet praise but…it means little to me, coming from her. Nevertheless, I try to smile. "My mother's also, I hope."

* * *

It is evening now and all of us who are left behind have gathered by the shore. Several women have started a bonfire and the younger children shriek as they try to see how close to the fire they can get before their mothers snap at them to step back. The older children and all the women are silent and fearful as they gaze into the distance where the ship has disappeared.

A hand touches my shoulder and I jump.

It is mother. She takes my hand.

"You're shivering."

I nod, trying to breathe steadily. "It's the night air."

Actually, I've been shivering all day, although mother made me force down a bowl of steaming stew.

"Do you want to sit closer to the fire?"

I sigh. I am tired of her suggestions and worried glances.

"I want to sit closer to the shore. I can see better that way."

"You are right." Mother sits down next to me. "They will be back. Any moment now."

The hours drag. We watch the stars. One by one the children go over to lie in their mother's laps and drop off to sleep. Mother and I collect some sticks and throw them into the fire to keep it burning. One by one, the women take the children home, carrying the smaller ones and waking the older ones.

Suddenly a woman points and shouts. "It's them! They're back!"

We rush to the shore. We can see the ship returning, with its' torches weakly flickering.

When the ship lands, the first person to step off is father. He is wet and muddied and his walk is weary. He takes one look at our expectant faces and shakes his head, wordlessly.

She isn't with them. They haven't rescued her.

We hear a moan. It is Ophelia's father. Three other men are helping him off the ship and to his house. His chest is stained with blood. The others stumble off the ship, weary, some wounded, some barely coherent. Their women and children rush to them and help them home.

"Are you wounded?" mother asks.

Father shakes his head.

I offer him an arm, expecting him to shake it off but to my surprise he takes it and leans on it as we walk home. Mother opens the door for us and lights a candle. Father sits down on the bed and buries his head in his hands.

"What happened?"

Father speaks quietly. "I'm sure that _when_ they took Ophelia, they didn't think that a small village would start a battle over one young girl. They wouldn't have taken her to begin with if they didn't think they could get away with it. But something changed their mind along the way, I suppose. Because they didn't wait for us to choose the right time for an attack. They sailed back and attacked us instead and...we weren't ready."

Mother begins to rub father's shoulders. He stiffens and pulls away.

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Father smiles.

Mother does not. She strips off his vest and I gasp at the blood staining the back of his shirt.

"You told me you weren't wounded!"

"Well, that's not a wound. More of a scratch really."

"A scratch?" Mother looks like she wants to slap him. Instead she says, "Lie down. Ras, bring some water."

I go to get water. As I am walking back, I hear mother ask, "But how could they have known you would follow?"

Father winces as she strips off his shirt. "Ras had a little chat with them, I believe. He might have told them a bit too much."

I lower the bucket outside the door as carefully as I can. Then, I lean against the wall, trembling. A bit too much?

"_My father is a pirate!"_

Of course.

Inside I hear father suck in his breath as mother begins to wash the wound.

Mother finds me later, outside the house, kicking the wall.

"Fool! Idiot!"

"Ras, what are you doing?"

I am crying now but I don't care if she sees. "It's all my fault! I told them my father was a pirate! It's all my fault! Idiot!"

"Ras…"

"Why didn't I just shut up?" I lean against the wall, weeping.

Mother's eyes fill with tears. She looks like she is about to touch me, then thinks better of it. "You can't blame yourself, Ras."

Can't blame myself? _'My father is a pirate. And if you do me any injury, you will regret the day you were born!' _That's what I said to them. While Ophelia wasbeing kidnapped, all I could think of was my own precious skin and how to save it.

_If you do me any injury…_

"Coward! Selfish coward!"

"That's enough!" Mother speaks sharply. "I understand the way you feel but screaming about it won't help anyone. Your father is tired and wishes to sleep. I want complete silence."

I turn around and glare at her. "You don't understand!"

"Oh, really?" Mother takes a step toward me. "Once I was foolish and said things that caused another man to try to kill your father. He didn't kill him but your father suffered terribly all the same. How did you think I felt when I learned that it was my fault?"

I am stunned into silence.

"Go to sleep, Ras. Tomorrow, you will have a chance to right all wrongs."


	4. Chapter 4

Ten men were wounded last night, not counting father.

"Rodor's life is in danger," mother says to me. "Antonio, the ship's captain, was shot in the leg and won't be able to walk for another three weeks."

Mother learned all this from the women on her way to the bakery this morning. She wants to say more but hesitates as if realizing only now that her words are hurting me. And I am angry at her for thinking that she must protect me.

"What else?"

Mother's eyes fill with tears. "Fezzik was shot in the shoulder."

"What else?" My voice doesn't sound like it belongs to me.

"Has anybody died during the night?" father asks, walking into the kitchen.

"No," mother says.

"Well, then, that's all right. We've all been wounded before and we've all survived." Father stretches and winces. "Ah. I've forgotten what a good battle wound felt like."

Mother and I stare at him. He is rarely in this good a mood.

"Did you rest well? You slept until nearly noon," mother says.

"Oh, no, I wasn't sleeping. I've been awake since five, thinking about what we're going to do next." Father smiles. "And I've decided."

. holds a theatrical pause. At any other time, I would have enjoyed teasing his plan out of him but now I don't want to jest. Neither does mother. "Unless you plan on sending the women to battle, I don't see what you can do," she says.

Father smiles again. "Women to battle? Buttercup, you are very funny."

"Well then what?" I ask.

"Wait just a minute, I'd like Inigo to hear." Father opens the door and calls, "Inigo! Inigo!"

The window opens and Inigo looks out. His eyes are blurry from sleep.

"Isn't it fortunate that you live next door?" father asks, smiling.

"It is fortunate that I do not feel like killing you or anyone else this morning," Inigo replies. He looks murderous.

"Oh, you wouldn't fight a wounded man. Especially one who could beat you even while wounded."

Inigo stops rubbing his eyes and blinks. "What did you say?" he asks.

Father smiles.

"There's no time for this!" mother says. She turns to Inigo, "Let me explain this in plain words. Wesley has a marvelous plan that he needs you to hear. But instead of telling it to you, he is playing games because he has all the time in the world! While that poor girl is …" Mother breaks off, mid-sentence. Her beautiful eyes glare and her lips tremble.

Father and Inigo both look somewhat ashamed.

"I'll be right there," Inigo says.

When he is seated at our table, father begins to explain.

"Yesterday, I discovered something very important. We followed the pirates for quite some time and I realized that instead of sailing away from the coast, they were sailing along the coast."

I try to look like I understand.

"I don't understand," mother says.

"Don't you see? They're not sailing to Florin. They're sailing to Snow Island which is where they came from."

Snow island. They say it is a magical place where it is winter all year round. They say it is nothing but forest from one end to the other. That it is filled with wild animals and has very few people. That's it's the largest island of all.

"But…if they were coming from Snow Island, they would have landed on the east of our island, not the west," Inigo says. "Why did they sail all the way around?"

"Because they didn't want us to know they were coming from Snow Island?" I ask.

"Exactly! And what can we conclude from that?" Father answers his own question. "Clearly, they don't want us to follow them to Snow Island. Because on land, we have the advantage."

"But they were sailing along the coast. Wouldn't that make it quite plain to us?" mother asks.

Father shakes his head. "They can't be seen from the shore. And they didn't expect us to follow them. That is not until..." He glances at me and falls silent.

The heat rushes to my face. I had actually forgotten that this…this was my fault.

"Until?" Inigo is confused.

I dread telling him. He will think I am a fool. No, even worse. He will think I am a coward and there is nothing Inigo despises more than cowardice.

"Until they saw us," father finishes.

"So what now?" Inigo asks. "We only have four men who capable of battle. They can each take one, maybe I can take five…how many can you take? Six?"

Father shakes his head. "There will be time for battle later. But Ophelia must be rescued now. We'll have to find them and kidnap her back."

He refuses to say any more to mother and me but spends hours speaking with Inigo. As usual, he only tells me as much as it is necessary for me to know.

* * *

"You see, Ras? Sometimes being small and skinny is a good thing. You would never have been hit by an arrow." Fezzik says this cheerfully, without any malice. A middle-aged widow named Fiona is taking care of him, tending to his wound and bringing him soup.

"By the time we return, you'll be all better," I say.

"Will you write me a letter?" Fezzik asks.

We are all jesting until we reach Ophelia's house. Suddenly, everyone grows sober. Mother knocks on the door softly. Ophelia's aunt opens the door.

"May we come in?"

She nods.

We enter quietly. Ophelia's father lies in bed. He is breathing heavily.

Father kneels and speaks. "Rodor, I promise you that we will bring her back."

"Yes," Rodor whispers. "Yes. Take her…her…" he cannot speak any longer but points at the door weakly. Suddenly, I understand.

"Her cane!" I say. "Of course."

I pick up the cane, fashioned with such care. "It will be taken to her."

Rodor smiles and closes his eyes. His sister motions that it is time for us to leave.

We leave in an hour. I sit on the steps, turning Ophelia's cane over and over in my hands. Mother comes out, a hunk of bread under her arm and places it in a large sack. "You know that Rodor made that cane himself? He started working on her first cane when she was born and finished it in time for her first birthday. Every year he makes a new one."

I picture a one-year old baby, learning to walk…with a cane.

"Why her?" I ask. "Why did they want her of all people?"

"Well…she happened to be here and everybody else was gone. They found her…so they took her."

"But what do they need her for? She cannot do heavy work."

Mother sighs. "Oh, Ras," she says.

She does not explain.


	5. Chapter 5

It is late evening when the four of us reach the east coast of our island. We stop at the home of one family to leave our horses with them and to borrow their best boats. They offer us many things, more food, more weapons. Father declines them all.

Father and Inigo get into one boat and mother and I get into another. We start rowing. Mother and Inigo keep glancing at father. Surely _this _is the time to explain our plans in more detail? But father is silent. For several minutes, he looks out to sea and doesn't speak. Perhaps, he is going over the plan in his head one more time before sharing it with us. Maybe he's testing our patience. Finally, he looks at us and points to the stars. "Do you see The Shield?" he asks mother and me.

We nod. The constellation we call The Shield isn't shaped like a shield. I always thought it looked more liked a lopsided circle. But there is an another constellation called The Arrow next to it and well…I suppose, whoever was the first to name the constellations decided that an arrow needed a shield nearby.

"Keep an eye on it."

There is a full moon and it lights up father's face. He changes the subject. "When we reach Snow Island, Inigo and I will try to find out where the pirates have taken Ophelia. We will follow them. Then we will find Ophelia and bring her back to the coast. By the time we return, you two will be waiting in boats nearby. We will get into the boats and sail home."

But I _thought_…I thought I was coming _with_ father and Inigo to rescue Ophelia.

I guess I thought wrong.

I am angry, mostly at myself for being so disappointed. Well of course I'm not coming. What do _I_ know about rescuing someone? I am too young, too inexperienced. And besides this whole mess is my fault. Father must think I would only be a hindrance.

Mother says, "Do you think they will pursue you?"

"Perhaps. Which is why it won't _only_ be you two waiting. By the time you will need to start waiting for us, some men on the island will have recovered from their injuries. You will bring four or five of them with you. You will find the exact spot where The Shield is _directly _above you and you will wait. From there, you will be able to see the coast of Snow Island."

I automatically look up at The Shield. What will it be like waiting and waiting in the silent darkness for days and days? What if father and Inigo never return?

Father continues. " When you see my bonfire blazing on the shore, you will know that we are waiting and _then _you will sail towards us to pick us up."

Father knows how to make a bonfire flicker and glow in a strange, ethereal way that nobody else can imitate. We'll be able to recognize it easily.

Father finishes. "You will need to spot us quickly and reach us quickly, because, like I said, there might be people coming after us and Inigo does not swim."

Inigo gives father a pained look.

"How soon should we start waiting?" mother asks.

"If everything goes right, we should return to the coast in two weeks." Father smiles. "But everything never goes right."

"We'll start waiting then, anyway. We will rest in shifts so that someone is always watching," mother says.

"Is that all we will do?" I ask. "_Wait?"_

"Yes," father says. "Is that too difficult for you?"

I don't speak.

Inigo eyes me sympathetically. "I understand," he says. "I hate waiting too."

"You _don't_ understand," mother says, smiling. "You've never waited for anything; it isn't in your nature."

Inigo bristles. "I waited twenty years to be able to avenge my father."

"That wasn't exactly _waiting_."

Inigo wants to answer back but father puts up a hand. "Silence. Listen!"

We are silent. And then we hear it. A moan. Coming from the darkness.

Mother gasps. "Who is that?" she whispers.

"Perhaps, a stranded sailor?" Inigo suggests.

Father gives Inigo a look that is somehow angry, although I cannot understand why. We listen again but now there is silence.

"If it is, we should help him," says mother.

Father leans out of his boat and grabs her wrist. "_You_ will do nothing of the sort."

"Shouldn't we find out who it is at least?"

Suddenly, I hear Inigo's shout, feel father shove me so hard that I fall backwards into the boat, hear something whistle through the air. _An arrow? _

I lie still, breathing heavily, father holding mother down beside me. Was anyone _hit_?

After a few moments, father rises cautiously. When I try to rise, he shakes his head. It isn't safe yet. He peers into the darkness, then glances into our other boat. In the moonlight, I see his eyes widen.

"Get over into this boat, both of you. Quickly!"

When we rise, I see Inigo bent over and swaying, with an arrow in his right side, the blood soaking through his shirt and flowing down to the bottom of the boat. His eyes are open but gazing at nothing in particular. We catch him as he begins to fall and lay him down as gently as possible.

Once father is left alone in our boat, he draws his sword and begins to row towards the darkness. "You get your wish, Buttercup," he says. "Now I will definitely find out _who_ it is."

Mother begins to take out her rags and ointments. "Help me, Ras." Her voice is trembling but her hands are firm. I hold Inigo down so he doesn't move involuntarily while she removes the arrow. Inigo moans. Once the arrow is out, mother asks me to wash it and set it aside. It might be useful in the future. I dip the arrow in the murky water and watch the water darken. We clean and dress the wound and try to stop the bleeding. Inigo moans again. After a few minutes, his eyelids flutter and close. Mother says that he has fainted, probably from the pain. "He had an old wound there," she says. "That makes the injury more serious than it would have been otherwise."

Once there is time again, to think, to worry, I realize just how much our situation has changed. What will happen _now_? Will Inigo even _survive_? And even if he does, how can he go rescue Ophelia, if he is badly injured?

We see the boat father is in, slowly returning to us. Father is in it, his face grim, and a wet, dirty stranger with hands tied behind his back (with one of our ropes) and a bloodstained leg.

"Meet your _friend_, Buttercup," Father says. "This is indeed a stranded sailor. Or more accurately, a stranded_ pirate _that used to be part of the crew that kidnapped Ophelia. His leg was injured so they left him behind to drown." He gives the stranger a look full of disdain and continues. "When this imbecile heard us, he thought that we were going to kill him so he decided to fix matters by shooting his last arrow in our direction."

The man looks at us, his eyes full of fear. At any other time I would have pitied him. But he helped kidnap Ophelia. And he shot Inigo. He is a cruel coward, nothing more.

Father kneels beside Inigo. "How is he?"

Mother sighs. "Alive."

Father nods. "That arrow would have hit me but for his warning. When he gets back to the Island, everyone will hail him as the hero that he is." Father turns to the sailor. "Have you ever been to Snow Island?"

The man nods. "B-born there." His voice sounds dry and crackly. He bends over and begins to cough.

Father takes out some parchment and ink. "I want you to draw me a map. Make it as detailed as you can. I _will_ untie you but my sword is out and I assure you that if you try to fight, you will die."

He tells me to light a candle. Then he unties the man's hands while holding the sword inches away from his face. He hands him the ink, the quill and the parchment and adds, "Do _not_ try to draw it wrong in order to deceive me."

The man stares down at the parchment and the quill. "I…I can't," he whispers.

"Can't?" Father raises an eyebrow.

"I would be a traitor to my people."

"They left you to die," father points out.

"My people…they take traitors and they do terrible things to them…terrible things…I can't."

He looks so plainly terrified that something in me feels sorry for him. Must father kill him? Mother reaches out and touches father on the shoulder. "Wait. Let me try something."

Father sighs. "Don't try to appeal to his conscience. I am sure he hasn't got any."

Mother shakes her head. She looks at the man. "Would you like some water?"

The man stares at her, stunned. Then he nods. Mother hands him a flask. The man grasps it and drinks greedily, gasping between swallows.

When was the last time he had a fresh drink of water? _Two_, _three_ days ago?

When he finishes drinking, he looks at mother. "Thank you, lady."

Mother nods. "When you say 'terrible things,' I suppose you mean torture?"

The man nods, swallowing.

Mother sighs. "Let me assure you that as long as you are with _us_, you will not have to face…anything of that sort. I cannot promise you much. I cannot even promise that your life will be spared. But I promise that if you must face death, it will be quick. We will _not_ torture you and we will_ not_ give you back to your people."

The man looks at her and for a moment, his eyes seem to shine in the darkness. He blinks. "Thank you, lady. Your kindness...can only be equaled by your - "

Mother interrupts him. "I do not care for compliments. If you wish to thank me, draw the map."

The man nods again. Then he picks up the quill and ink and begins to draw. I see father's mouth curve slightly as if he is about to smile but in the end he doesn't, as his gaze lands on Inigo, lying pale and motionless at our feet.


End file.
